


The Question

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, It's ineffable everyone, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 07:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: Aziraphale is enjoying a young customer's company. Crowley is not thrilled. Then he is.





	The Question

**Author's Note:**

> As a Doctor Who's fan, I really wanted to use "an unheartly child" as a title, but I didn't dare^^
> 
> Thanks again to megzseattle for beta reading. without her you would read real weird stuff sometimes, like demon-eating sofas (not kidding).

The wine was getting warm. And that was, at least in Crowley’s opinion, worse than any heresy. He sauntered vaguely towards the voices at the entry to the shop. Okay, it was a kid. He couldn’t scare a kid away, really. But the bloody wine was waiting, and he didn’t care for drinking it alone. Even if he was a demon (the scariest and meanest of them all, actually), he wasn’t THAT rude.

He was expecting a desperate and begging look from his angel, but Aziraphale didn’t even spare him a glance. He was… actually speaking to the child. Like he enjoyed her company. That was… unsettling. His friend liked kids, of course, he liked practically everyone, but talking to some human’s spawn with that much ease and… (was that an affectionate smile? It was!)

Well that wasn’t RIGHT. He sneaked his way right to the angel’s back, who blinked in surprise when an arm brusquely dangled from one of his shoulder while a chin rested on the other.

“Crowley?”

“Who else do you think it is? The bloody queen?”

“Crowley! Language!” whispered Aziraphale sternly, motioning in direction of the girl, who looked a little ill at ease. Crowley was pretty sure it wasn’t the B word that made her uncomfortable. He sighed inwardly. Nope, no good. He just couldn’t make her go away using that method. He took a step and his arm back. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, clearly waiting for him to say something. No way in heaven he was going to apologise for cursing.

“Want a cocoa, kid?”

Both angelic and human faces brightened at his question. Well… the corner of his mouth twitched against his will as he made his way to the kitchen, snapping the wine back in it’s bottle. It will have to wait. Shame.

He tried his best to pick up something of the conversation when he got back, pausing a moment on the stairs.

“I prefer Chesterton” the girl was saying assuredly. “He’s way more fun to read.”

“Well I can’t say I disagree. I like a good tragedy myself, but Gil… Chesterton really was a brilliant man, with a wonderful sense of humour.”

Oh, another writer friend made during his bloody nap. How nice. Well, at least he was fun to read. Not like Poe, thought the demon with a shudder. He never liked the idea of Aziraphale enjoying that man’s conversation. He was fairly certain the angel had _drunk_ wine with the bloody bugger, even if said angel had always vehemently denied it.  
Really, you can’t just sleep a tiny century without having your best friend talking to people all over the place. That was _indecent_, that’s what it was.

He resumed his pace and handed over the hot drinks. The girl was seated in one of the chairs near a window. It looked like she had nowhere else to be in the near future. Where were the chit’s parents ? Who would leave its progeny alone with two strange, middle-aged men ? Crowley considered sprawling on the sofa to enjoy his drink and maybe sleep for a while, but decided otherwise and perched on the desk, vaguely listening to the conversation at hand. Books, books, writers, books… no wonder the angel liked that one, she was brilliant.

“Are you two married?”

Crowley snapped to attention, almost choking on his Irish coffee. He was all for asking questions, really, but this one was kind of tricky and not at all expected. Kids were good at that. He really hoped the angel wouldn’t be flustered. He loved to see him unsettled, it was always fun to watch, just… not because of him.

“What? Oh, Crowley and I? No, of course not. Why would we be?” Responded Aziraphale dismissively.

“Hurting my feelings here, angel.”

“Oh, do shut up, my dear.”

“You really are. 'of course not'? That’s just cruel, angel, at’s what it is.”

The girl looked between them worriedly. Crowley sent her a grin and a wink. Aziraphale ignored the demon entirely, but a little smile at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

“We are not married. We are… well, I guess friends is the closest answer.”

She sipped her cocoa, and studied them over the rim of her winged mug.

“You look awfully close for just friends.”

“_Just_ friends?” the angel was incensed now. Oh it was a good idea not to go back to the couch, thought Crowley, enjoying himself immensely. Offended Aziraphale was always a treat (when he wasn’t the offending party of course. Then it was a nightmare).

“Why _just_ ? Is friendship some inferior kind of love to you humans? _Just_ friends, _more than_ friends… don’t you love your friends, young lady?”

The girl was clearly startled, and probably wondering at the 'you humans' part, but fortunately not afraid.

“Hum. Yes, of course I do...”

“Well I do too, and I am quite certain I will never love anyone more than this particular friend. Really, marrying him would not bring us any closer, it is quite impossible.”

Well, _that_ was good to hear, even if he already knew it of course. Crowley offered a mental middle finger to Oscar Wilde.

The kid dropped it, satisfied, and the conversation got back to the safe subject of literature. Soon a woman came to pick her up, asking if she had found any interesting books. She sent Aziraphale a secret smile and answered that she didn’t, earning a life-long angelic blessing unknowingly. The demon waved at her and hopped off the desk.

“Soooo…” he started as soon as the door was closed “We’re friends, hey?”

“What would you have had me answer, Crowley? That we know each other since 6000 years and there is no word to describe our relation? Because there isn’t, believe me, I would use it if it existed.”

“But there is one, angel” smiled the demon, sneaking his arm around his angel’s neck and whispering in his ear.

“Ineffable”

Aziraphale’s hand raised and landed lightly on the demon’s cheek.

“That it is, my dear” he answered fondly.

They stayed that way for an indefinite time, just enjoying the familiar presence of the other, until Crowley smiled mischievously.

“Angel?”

“Mmm?”

“The wine is getting stale.”

Aziraphale showed him off and faced him with a scandalised expression.

“What? You didn’t thought of putting it back in the bottle? The back room is way to warm for...” his eyes squinted at his friend’s delighted grin.

“You… awful demon!”

“Thanks, angel. Come on, let’s drink.”


End file.
